Phoenix: Prologue
by Nicky2
Summary: Part 1 of my "Anakin's fall" series, in which Anakin returns to the desert of his childhood, to find that many things have changed.


Series Title: Phoenix  
Title: Prologue  
Summary: Part 1 of my Anakin's Fall series, in which Anakin returns to the desertof his childhood.  
Author: Tyger  
Author E-mail: amidalakenobi@hotmail.com  
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and death  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, I am making no money for it, and no [major] infringement is intended. If that's not enough, sorry. You *could* sue me if you want to, but I have to warn you: you won't get much. Just please read the story!  
  
Author's Note: This section pretty much follows cannon, but some of the future ones will hint at things George Lucas will probably never include in his stories. So if mildly "incorrect" things occur, such as suggestions of a Qui-Gon/Shmi thing, you have been warned.  
  
Prologue  
Tyger  
  
The ship glided smoothly from the sky, dark as the cosmos from whence it came. A figure stepped out, tall and imposing, and he too matched the black of night.  
A lightsaber glinted at his waist as he ran a hand through his blond hair. His cold blue eyes scanned the tiny spaceport expressionlessly, but one could have said he was anticipating something, something good after a long period of disappointment.   
There was hunger in him, a desperate, yearning hunger.  
And at last, at long last, that hunger was going to be satisfied. Anakin Skywalker surveyed the Mos Espa "skyline" with a sense of timelessness: he'd been gone twelve years, and nothing seemed to have changed. But *he* was different. Since he'd left, nearly every trace of the earnest boy he had once been had vanished. There was no love lost for anyone from this old life.  
Anyone, that is, but his mother. She was why he was here, the only reason he would ever have returned to this hell. Now that he had joined Palpatine, he had enough money to do what he had always wanted: free her, and be a family again.  
He turned down the deserted, dusty old road, half-expecting Kitster to step out of one of the low buildings. He felt like a little kid again, like he was ten years old and didn't care if he was a slave.  
Everything that had happened since he left came to mind: going to Coruscant, then to Naboo, becoming a Jedi, marrying Amidala...and from then on it just stopped making sense. He hated wasting his life to serve others before himself, and he had not hesitated to say so to the Masters. And then Palpatine had come, offering all the power he could want. It all rushed into his  
consciousness with the force of a sandstorm, and he knew things would never be the same.  
Dawn was breaking now, and the slaves were leaving their huts. No one recognized him, and he recalled no one from his old life. He began to wonder if anyone still remained, but he found that the old junkshop was still there.   
Watto...His hand tightened on the lightsaber's hilt as he ducked through the doorway. The old Toydarian was still there, fatter and uglier than he remembered. He fluttered lazily up as Anakin entered.  
"Good day to you, fine sir. How may I assist you toda-"  
He cut the slaver off. "Where's Shmi?"   
Watto floated back. He didn't even know his own former slave anymore. "Pardon?"  
"Shmi Skywalker," he bit out, stepping closer. "Where is she?"  
He laughed repulsively. "Good luck to you if you wish to find her; I haven't seen her in a week. She'll be in for a lashing when she comes back. If she ran off..."  
But Anakin was already gone. Was she sick? Dead? Maybe she *had* run off. If Watto had done anything to her...  
He found the door to his hovel without thinking and let himself in. It wasn't like the doors actually locked or anything. "Mom? Mom, are you here?"  
A whirl of servomotors drew his attention to the kitchen. "Hello, sir."  
Anakin glanced at the unfamiliar golden droid. "Who are you?"  
"I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations."  
"Threepio?! Mom finished you! I don't believe it."  
"Er, actually, sir, Master Kitster did." The droid quickly ran through a file of persons he recognized. A few had come close, and he ran a time-lapse imager through them before coming up with a match. "Master Anakin, my Maker! It is good to see you."  
"Where's Mom?"  
"Do you mean Mistress Shmi? She is in her room. I do believe she might be...indisposed?"  
Before the droid had finished, Anakin was at his mother's bedside. She looked awful, older. Her hair was mostly gray, and she was pale. Asleep, he could barely tell she was breathing.  
"Threepio, what's wrong with her?"  
"I am unsure, Master Anakin. Her body temperature is three degrees cooler than usual, her heart rate is slower, and she has difficulty breathing at times. She has not eaten in -"  
"Ani?" She opened her eyes a bit.  
"It's me." His voice sounded different, almost childlike. "I'm here."  
"Why did you come back?"  
"I promised, remember? I came back to free you!"  
She smiled weakly. "Too late, Ani. I'm not afraid to die. I'm simply glad that I could see you again before..."  
"I'll get you to the ship; you'll be fine. You can come back to Coruscant with me," he whispered, choked with emotion. "We can be happy again."  
"If I don't fear it, Ani, why should you? It would have been worse to die without seeing you."  
"I won't let you!"  
Her hand reached blindly for his. "Ten years ago, I let my little boy go, and it was for the best. You must let me go, Anakin. It will be better this way...I can be with Qui-Gon..."  
Her hand dropped onto the bed.  
"No...Mom, come back. Please."  
His mother was finally free, but that did little to soothe the agony radiating through his mind. Biting back the hot tears, he covered her up gently. An idea that had been slowly forming in his mind had suddenly become clear, and his resolve hardened.   
He stood up, feeling the weight of the money at his belt, money that now could never buy his mother's freedom. In a sudden fury he threw it to the floor. The bag split, scattering the coins across the dusty floor.  
*Why? Why now? Why her? It's not fair!*   
He stared at the winking silver pieces as they blurred through his tears. Threepio clanked up behind him.  
"I am terribly sorry, Master Anakin. If there's anything I can do to assist you-"  
"Wait here, Threepio," he growled. "I'm going to pay Watto a little visit."  
  
"Ah, my good sir. Did you find the slave? Perhaps you wish to purchase her. I can cut you a good deal..."  
"She's dead," he bit out. "You let her die, you son of a bitch!"  
"Dead? Shmi? I thought she was stronger than that." He shrugged. "Too bad, every now and then you lose one."  
Anakin seized the pint-size swindler by the collar, preventing him from flying away. "You really don't recognize me, do you?"  
"Sir, I must protest your t-t-treating me like this!" he spluttered.  
He pressed the slaver against the wall, a meter and a half off the floor. "Remember the podraces I ran for you?"  
Recognition flashed in Watto's eyes.  
"Yes, it's me, you stupid bastard. Last time, I had a reason not to kill you. Now, my only reason is dead, and *you* let her die!  
"You think I ought to be lenient on you? Tell me when you ever went easy on me! I did all the work everyone else did, plus I risked my neck in those star-damned races, just so you could make a dishonest credit. You thought you  
were pretty good at gambling with my life, didn't you?"  
Watto jabbered incoherently before finding his voice again. "Ani, please-"  
The Jedi who was rapidly becoming a Sith slammed him against the wall. "Don't you *dare* call me that! You let my mother die; how can you call me by her own name for me?"  
"I-I am terribly sorry..."  
"Shut up. As you let my mother fend for herself, I'll let you do the same." He dropped Watto. "You have one minute. Get out."  
He fluttered nervously towards the door. Anakin gave him a ten-count, then locked his lightsaber on and launched it at Watto's back. He fell, shuddering convulsively, then was still.  
Anakin picked up his lightsaber and stalked off into the morning.  



End file.
